


Fate Is Written in Silver and Red

by saucerfulofsins



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Courtship, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 15:33:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17563178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saucerfulofsins/pseuds/saucerfulofsins
Summary: Link doesn't return to the Zora kingdom until three years after the defeat of the Great Calamity. Some things have changed; some things have not.Based on the Tumblr comicI Want to Believebypittssmitts.





	Fate Is Written in Silver and Red

**Author's Note:**

> As I mentioned in the summary, this fic is based on _[I Want to Believe](http://pittssmitts.tumblr.com/post/180731076638/i-want-to-believe-a-sidlink-fancomic-next-also-i)_. If you haven't read it yet, please go do so--the full first chapter is currently online and [pittssmitts](http://pittssmitts.tumblr.com/) updates regularly! 
> 
> Anyway, I mostly stuck to the comic's canon for the first part of the fic, and took several liberties thereafter. I wrote this with the creator's permission, and Matteo--I hope you like it :) (I certainly loved writing this).

Link means to.

Of course he does—it’s a constant thought in the back of his mind, always there to whisper and push, and always he pushes it back down.

He is too busy. Zelda must heal, and the Castle needs to be rebuilt—then there are people to help, and Hyrule to raise from the ruins it fell to. Some of the Kakariko Sheikah come to help, and Link takes a week to travel down to Hateno so he can ask Bolson Constructions for help.

Passing the Duelling Peaks, he thinks about taking a detour to the Zora domain, but the people in Hateno need help, and Purah must be informed on everything they have done, and so in the end—he doesn’t have time.

He is recognised for who he is, even now he’s exchanged his Champion’s tunic for the itch of a Royal Guard outfit, although in Hateno people don’t treat him any differently. He drops by his own house to pick up weapons and the shields because they can use everything to arm the growing troops, to keep the people safe from Bokoblins and Moblins, the Lizalfos that still sneak into the moat at night.

He pretends it doesn’t hurt and smiles when he sees his old friends.

-

There was a time he could hop onto any blue-lit shrine and find his way across the wide miles in the span of minutes. After Calamity Ganon’s defeat, the stones dimmed until they stand across the country, stubbornly still and closed off to anyone. The Sheikah slate does not work anymore.

Link takes it for what it is: His duty as the Hero has been fulfilled. His scars are the only tangible outcome to all of this; all else has become the thread from which this legend will be spun.

He tells Zelda about what happened, but only behind closed doors, and only in small pieces at a time. For one because some things he needs to _say_ , sometimes talking until his throat hurts and Zelda looks sad and lays her hand on his shoulder. For another because it is too difficult to comprehend, to think of all that happened at once, even when he can sign, Zelda’s eyes flitting back and forth between his hands and his face.

She never pries and never asks. She frequently suggests Link take a week off, to “go see your old friends, Link, I know you must miss them.” When he refuses, she will send him on an errand that would leave enough time to drop by the Domain or the Rito, already in their vicinity or in the Gerudo desert, but he can’t bring himself to it.

He’s not sure why. When Riju visits Hyrule Castle, a year and a half into the rebuild and nearly three years after Link defeated the Calamity, nothing has changed between them. She is still a friend, she is still supportive, she still exudes that warm and kind glow even though she towers half a head above Link and Zelda now.

Maybe it’s the nightmares that sweep him up at night, the blight suffocating him whenever water or sand aren’t, the wind carrying him away to monsters larger than they should be, gold and glittering in the blood moon.

So, in the first three years he doesn’t visit his friends.

He still talks about them plenty, and he doesn’t forget.

-

When Zelda tells him they will visit the Domain, Link’s stomach knots into a frenzy.

He wants to shake his head, tell her _no_ , but she grabs his hands before he can. Her touch is soft and cool as she calms him down, smiling kindly.

“Sidon will be pleased to see you,” she tells him, and Link can feel heat rise to his cheeks. It’s enough to make Zelda laugh, touching a finger down his flushed skin before saying, “We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

He follows her, of course. She’s being difficult during the trip, teasing him and threatening to throw him into a Bokoblin den, and then gets excited as the tall pale towers of the Domain start to loom on the horizon—first like needles but growing as they walk down the path Link first travelled so many years ago.

The luminous plaquettes telling of the Zora legends are still there, obviously taken better care of now that there are no Lizalfos around every corner. He sees the dark stone of a shrine in the distance, slowly being swallowed by the earth now that it has served its purpose. Distracted, and not for the first time, he wonders if the monks are still there; if they are waiting for a future Hero or have fulfilled their sacred duty like the Sages in a distant past.

“Link,” Zelda says, sounding like she’s on the third repeat.

He looks up at her, finally, and she asks how long it’s been.

His stomach bottoms out as he answers, as the full extent of his idiocy sets in. Three years is too long, he knows—too long to leave someone waiting. Although he had seen Sidon regularly when he was fighting the Calamity, and had promised he would visit soon, he—

He didn’t, caught up in other business; caught up in his mind.

Zelda sent him this way plenty of times.

The first six months, maybe, there truly had been no time. Then, it had felt like he missed out on his chance to—what, exactly? He doesn’t know. Something big, something _important_ , and after he took the decision to stay in Hateno instead of visiting Sidon, he felt like he couldn’t return. The battle with his own guilt was too big to win.

They continue their bickering up the hills, down the road, and on their way to the Domain—until a familiar voice stops them dead in their tracks.

-

It’s the most terrifying moment Link has experienced in the past three years.

While Sidon greets them, Link finds he can’t speak, finds that his hands are shaking too hard to sign. Instead he stays motionless behind the Princess, taking in the picture before him.

Sidon looks exactly like he remembers: red, giant, and yet somehow far too small to contain all his happy excitement. Link expected resentful glares in his direction, the way he had received those from the Zora elders before defeating Vah Ruta. Instead, Sidon glances over him once more, his eyes remaining empty like Link means nothing to him. He might as well not be present.

It takes a moment accept the reality of the situation. His heart scrounges up in his chest and wrings itself dry. He can’t breathe for long moments, wondering whether this is deliberate—maybe Sidon is angry with him after all—and then he hears his own name drop.

Link’s cheeks flush, taking off his cap at last because it seems like the proper thing to do. He knows his hair is a little shaggy, cut short with a too-dull blade whenever he gets frustrated and remaining uneven even as Zelda tries to save it. He knows he has scars to atone for his battles. He knows his eyes look different now, after not only the fighting but the aftermath—the slow settling into this skin he’s had to get to know all over again.

Belatedly, he realises he is taller, too. Not enough to see Sidon as anything but the giant Zora that he is, but enough to have to look down when he’s talking to Zelda, not up.

Sidon is already careening towards him, barraging him with questions. Link smiles up at him, his heart jolting in his chest and his stomach briefly dislodging before careening back, still restless. He tries to answer Sid, because yes, he is older—they hadn’t known aging at a normal rate would happen, for a while—and he is taller, and Sidon only has eyes for him. He thinks he hears Zelda giggle somewhere behind his back, but the embarrassment is secondary to seeing Sidon again; to the peaceful feeling of knowing he did not ruin this friendship and the sudden, stark knowledge that there is nothing he _could_ do to mess them up.

With the most pressing questions out of the way—all from Sidon and about Link—Sidon finally sweeps him up in a hug. His damp scales are rough when Link runs his fingers up Sidon’s back, breathing in the freshwater-sand scent that perpetually clings to him. Sid’s chest presses against Link’s face so tightly that he fancies he can hear a heartbeat, helplessly turning his face into the pearly white shimmer, brushing his lips against the smooth-hardness.

Something shifts in his chest, settling in place while throwing the rest of him off balance. He hadn’t realised how much he’s missed Sid over the past years, how much he needed _this_ —the arms around him, a supportive friend that was there at a time he needed it most. Among his first memories, Sidon is one of the images that stands out, will always stand out—because everything from _before_ didn’t return to him until much, much later.

He breathes in and breathes out, and then Sidon ruffles his hair before stepping back. There’s a colour on his cheeks Link hasn’t seen before—a discoloured blue-purple that he suspects might be Sidon blushing.

“Come on, friends,” Sidon smiles. “You must be tired from your travels.”

His hand is heavy on Link’s shoulder as he leads them down the bridge, into the Zora’s city.

-

Link can’t sleep.

Zelda is in a room nearby, the guest quarters new additions to the extant structures now that luminous stones can be mined more safely.

The soft blue glow keeps him up, he thinks, and after three hours he gives up. The air is fresh at night; springtime has engulfed Lanayru and the sun is warm by day, although the temperatures still plummet at night. Still, he thinks about taking a swim; dive off the waterfall and relax in the waters below. He brought the Zora armour, but the intention is to return Mipha’s gift to her family. It belongs here, it should _be_ here—with her family and her people who loved her more than Link could have.

Instead of swimming, he walks down the long bridge leading to the Veiled Falls. There, he perches on an edge of the outcropping that overlooks the Domain’s main structure.

He knows it’s only the section above the water. There’s more, Sidon’s explained, below the surface of the lakes in the surrounding area. Big buildings and smaller dwellings that Zora families live in, work in, now that Vah Ruta has resumed its peaceful vigil over the Domain.

Sidon’s told him more. Link remembers a time when he was recovering from his fight with Windblight Ganon, staying in the inn that had been cleared of everything to accommodate him. It had been two weeks and he was crawling out of his skin—he knew he needed to continue his travels, his fights, and Vah Ruta had been the first Divine Beast to fall; Mipha the first Champion’s spirit recovered.

Sidon found him here on the outcropping, after he’d wandered off in search of fresh air. He was bandaged up and sore all over, too weak to resume his travels North but not by much, and he’d joined Link rather than reprimanding him.

With the few memories he’d thus far recovered, the true scale of Hyrule’s devastation was still beyond his comprehension, outside of his capacity to deal with. The glimpses of the past that overlaid the visions before him were most troubling—resembling double vision, the flourish and downfall of the same place, all at once, tearing his heart apart.

 _What happened?_ He’d asked Sidon, who seamlessly understood everything embedded in the question. 

“The small towns fell first,” Sidon quietly explained. He’d lost his happy demeanour, settling into a posture more patient and contemplative than Link had ever seen. There was something new and regal about him, and for the first time it struck him that Sidon would make a great king should anything befall to King Dorephan. “In Necluda—Hateno was mostly ruined. The Sheikah of Kakariko trekked into the woods and to the plateaus and some of them stayed here. Then Ganon, the Blight and his army made it to Hyrule field. I—none of the Zora there survived, we only have accounts from two Hylians that survived the siege at the Citadel and sought their refuge here, afterwards.”

 Sidon had put an arm on Link’s shoulder. “You—You were there. I do not know where you fell, but I know it was terrible. After the Guardians went rogue, the towns were destroyed in the span of a week, although our forces tried to resist—but nothing can fight such brute force brought on by such dark magic.” Something inside Link shrunk, and Sidon seemed to realise his mistake. “Not without preparation, not without the Goddess’s blessing and support.”

 _Do you think this was destiny?_ Link asked, his hands shaking so hard that Sidon’s free hand came down to hold them, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into Link’s skin.

“That—” Sidon looked over the Domain. “I do not know. It is hard to think that the Goddesses would require—would require so much death.”

He was quiet after that and Link could fill in the blanks: the chaos upon their defeat, the deaths of the champions—of Sidon’s _sister_ —Link falling, losing Hyrule as the monsters took over most of the lands, most of the food sources.

After a deep breath, the memory fades and Link finds himself in the present again—aware that there are eyes on him, although he’s not frightened. He can see Sidon’s outline, hidden in the shadows near the bridge, and quietly calls out his name.

Sidon emerges, a little awkward as he sits in the same place Link remembers him being.

“It’s a pleasant night,” he tells Link. “I was going for a walk.”

It’s a blatant lie and Sidon doesn’t hide the fact. Link smiles at him, easy and calm. The light of the stones and the moon reflect off his skin in pale cerulean; the flush is back on Sidon’s cheeks—not for the first time, Link wonders if they’d be warm to the touch. His heart flips in his chest again.

 _I was just thinking about you_ , he tells Sidon, only realising how Sidon could interpret that after he’s tucked his hands back in his lap—and he doesn’t mind.

He knows how Mipha and Zelda felt about him, over a century ago, and he’s not blind to the looks people give him nowadays either. Not Zelda, not anymore—not after what they have been through. They’re too different, he thinks; Zelda has the memories of a hundred years in captivity while he still misses so many of his.

Besides, Zelda knows Link’s heart doesn’t beat faster for girls. She’s known for a long time, now.

“What were you thinking about?” Sidon asks.

 _Us,_ he says, feeling his cheeks heat up. _When you told me about Hyrule during the Calamity_.

Sidon nods. He must remember, then. “I watched you go outside. Are you feeling alright? I haven’t—you didn’t visit these past three years.” He seems nervous now, in the dark and without Zelda or other Zora nearby. “I was worried I did something wrong.”

Link lowers his head, embarrassed once again at his own cowardice, although a smile tugs at his lips. It’s sweet, he thinks, that Sidon blames himself for Link’s absence.

“I was scared,” he confesses. The words come out rough and strained, and Sidon seems surprised that he is speaking at all. Link shrugs, slowly peeking up at him. “I didn’t know—I—Mipha.” He doesn’t know what else to say, nor where he was going with the words—and that alone is odd for him, as someone who thinks over everything; who plans every word he utters.

“You could have visited, we are friends,” Sidon gently reminds him. “Ganon was to blame for Mipha’s—her demise, and you freed her soul. She is at peace with the gods of the ever-after. And—”

Link stares at Sidon as he trails off, wondering if he should urge him on, or if that is improper.

Sidon shrugs, putting his arm on Link’s shoulder. “And it is _okay_ , Link.”

Somehow, it is not what Link expected, but it is still good to hear. He leans into Sidon a little, pulling his legs close to his chest and sighing deeply. He nods, closing his eyes, and breathing in the scent—of fresh grass, of water and sand.

They stay there until sunrise.

-

The ceremony during which Link hands the Zora armour back to the people is grand enough to leave him flustered. He can see Muzu and Sidon on the front row as King Dorephan accepts back the clothes.

“Thank you, Link,” he says.

Link nods, righting himself a little.

It is a cause of celebration for the Zora, particularly when the armour is put up on display. While it is not overt, Link knows that the gesture is much more than that—he categorises the ownership of the armour as part of Mipha and Sidon helping him in his quest to defeat Ganon, but the Zora’s meaning runs much, much deeper.

This is a rejection. The younger Zora will not know, and the older Zora have long since forgiven him, but he can feel the eyes of Sidon and Zelda on him, leaving him to feel prickly and uncomfortable. He’s turning down Mipha’s proposal, the way he would have all those years ago—and they—Zelda certainly, and he hopes Sidon too—know it is hardly a choice.

He stays quiet throughout the feast, his hands folded in his lap. Sidon and King Dorephan are sat between him and Zelda and it makes things more difficult, somehow, because although he likes being around Sidon, he doesn’t like being in public—not when he’s put on display, revered like the Hero the Goddesses made him to be.

When Sidon whispers in his ear to ask if he wants to leave, long before the feast is properly over, Link heaves a deep sigh of relief.

 _Yes_ , he nods. _Please_.

Sidon smiles at him gently and then turns to King Dorephan to say something Link cannot hear. The noise is overwhelming, and while some Zora thank him when he leaves, they do not require his presence to continue the festivities.

“Are you alright?” Sidon asks as they exit the hall.

“Yes,” Link croaks, taking deep gulps of fresh air.

He hadn’t realised how stifling the atmosphere was indoors and feels vaguely guilty about leaving Zelda on her own—although he knows she is safe, and he knows she was always much better suited for social events than him. There are Zora who will be able to keep her interest in conversation, he knows. Academics, hobby historians, Muzu who has now retired from the King’s advisory board but is still all too willing to share all that he knows with anyone willing to listen.

“Let us take a walk,” Sidon decides.

The sun has set, leaving only the last traces of red on the horizon, and stars twinkle overhead. Link looks up at them as they traverse one of the many bridges exiting the domain, this one long and winding and new enough that he can still smell the stone-dust.

Sidon’s hand is on his shoulders and his heart is hammering in his chest. He wonders if Sidon wants to talk to him—about them, but especially about Link’s three-year absence. Even during the last war against Ganon, the looks Sidon had cast his way did not go entirely over Link’s head, not when he was familiar with the way Mipha once looked at him. Now, he thinks the loaded glances may still be there, but it feels strange. He feels unworthy of Sidon’s affection, particularly now.

He doesn’t know how to act—Link has never been in this position before. Not in this life, before or after the Calamity.

-

“Zelda said she will put funding towards the roads leading here next,” Sidon tells Link.

He’d known this, of course; Lanayru is an important province, providing nearly fifty per cent of the fish consumed by the Hyrulians living in the towns on Hyrule Field. Work on the Citadel has advanced nicely, and Tarry Town is a well-valued trading post. Besides, the Zora have always been valuable friends to the Kingdom, and their silverware will sell well in Castle Town.

He also knows Zelda wants to repay him, somehow, for all that he has lost and all he has given. It is considerate, a gift he can accept without guilt because it is beneficial to everyone—but the implications are clear.

“I will visit more,” he tells Sidon. “Zelda will want me to inspect the progress.”

He doesn’t say that he wants to see Sidon more often, but Sidon smiles down at him softly so Link thinks he knows anyway.

-

He visits Sidon a month later.

They have been in contact, somewhat, using letters—although Link is worse with a pen than with spoken words. Regardless, it is better than nothing. Staying for two days, too, is exactly that too. Zelda sent him off, almost forcefully, safe under the care of yet another ex-Yiga clan member that has found their refuge in Hyrule.

There have been a lot of them, lately.

They walk down to the Lanayru Great Spring, overlooking the snowy Mount in the distance. Sidon sits down on a rocky outcropping, the brown fading into the darkness of the night interwoven with slivers of luminous stone. Link joins Sidon and feels him shuffle closer; he doesn’t move away.

“Link,” Sidon says.

When Link looks up at him, Sidon is looking ahead, eyes focused on something in the distance—he can’t discern what it is.

“Link, I—” Sidon starts, again, his voice uncharacteristically soft, his words hesitant. “I—I just—”

He starts to remove his hand from Link’s shoulder, so Link covers it with his own hand. There is nothing Sidon could say that will shock him, and certainly nothing that Link would be unwilling to explore. That much he knows—that much he has _always_ known. He wonders if his own reticence over the past years was because he was not ready for things he would have agreed to anyway.

Link doesn’t know if he is ready now, but the thought of Sidon making a more formal proposition doesn’t make him want to run.

“What is it?” he asks.

His voice comes out smoother, easier, than it ever has. Even Sidon casts a brief look of surprise in Link’s direction.

“I mean,” Link continues, emboldened now, “you should say it. Sidon. You should, uh,” he takes a deep breath, feeling his throat lock up again, “what you need to. I am not afraid.”

Sidon laughs. “Are you ever afraid, Link? But, to be quite frank—I have missed you. I wish you had visited.”

Link nods, because he wishes for the same. Then he snorts, remembering the Bank of Wishes, thinking maybe they should have gone there.

“I—” Sidon continues, not noticing Link’s face. It’s hard to stay in control, heat rushing to his chest because Sidon’s entire face is now purple, and he thinks Sidon may be sweating because he is glistening, and Link’s heart is about to explode.

“I _am_ scared,” Link confesses when Sidon remains silent. “I—want. I.”

Sidon looks at him curiously, searching his face for something. _Something_. Link can give him that.

“I wish I had visited you,” he tells Sidon. “I _was_ afraid.”

Sidon laughs at first, turning his body Link’s way. Then he settles back in the position Link sees as royal. “But what could you, chosen by the Goddess, possibly be afraid of?”

“I had to—the feast,” he says, pushing his hand through his hair. It’s scruffy and awful, and he wonders if he should have tried harder to look good—for Sidon, for the Zora, for everything. “I never wanted to marry Mipha. I’m sorry.”

Sidon’s face goes soft, looking at him sadly as his hand leaves Link’s shoulder and finds his wrist. “I know,” he says.

“I couldn’t,” Link continues. “I—never, I never could have.”

Sidon nods.

“Not Zelda either,” he mutters.

Sidon’s eyes are still wide and kind and he looks more comfortable, nodding, encouraging Link to keep going.

“And I don’t mind—I, I didn’t _entirely_ know until last month, until today,” he keeps going, and then his breath catches in his throat along with his words, because these are things he _needs_ to say but his body won’t let him.

Sidon seems to understand anyway, reaching out for Link and pulling him into his lap. Link can feel his breath to his ear, the way his shark-skin catches against his own far more delicate, far more Hylian body. It seems silly to feel insecure about that when none of the Zora ever had a problem with Mipha loving Link, but then—love seems like a silly thing in general. In theory.

“Link,” Sidon sighs, hugging him closer to his chest. “I could have visited you at Hyrule Castle as well. I only felt it was—improper, while you had the armour Mipha made for you. I am quite aware you would not have married her and that the reasons behind your ownership far surpassed conventional Zora tradition, but it was effectually an engagement.”

Link nods. _What do you think she would think of this?_ he asks.

“Zelda accepts it,” Sidon says after a moment’s contemplation. “There is no reason for me to believe that Mipha would not. As you pointed out, feelings cannot be directed.”

His breath ghosts over Link’s hair and he feels Sidon press a kiss to the top of his head. It sends a shiver down his spine. He looks down at his hands, wondering whether he should ask—and deciding that he will.

“Will you make me new armour?”

He can hear Sidon smile and pictures the glint of his teeth in the moonlight. “No,” Sidon answers, and the disappointment that sinks to Link’s stomach is unbidden—he knows it does not change anything. But there is something in the gesture he would have liked—something about having walked around in garments made from personal items, feathers and scales and sweat and blood, made his quests less lonely. He wants to own something personal to Sidon.

Sidon must notice the way he tenses up, regardless of how hard he tries not to.

“Link, please do not worry,” Sidon murmurs. “I will not make you armour because the tradition belongs to female Zora.” He shifts, taking away one arm and exposing Link to wind that is colder than he’d thought. For a moment he wonders whether sitting like this will heat up Sidon’s lamnid body, whether Sidon likes that or not.

Then something dangles in front of his eyes. It glints in the moonlight, a red pendant he thinks is a ruby before realising it is one of Sidon’s scales.

“ _Oh_ ,” he whispers.

He reaches out to it and touches the delicate silver necklace, the scale connected to the chain with miniscule wrought ornaments that loop through tiny carved holes—the pattern reminds him of heart containers. The moment he saw it, he figured Sidon made the necklace himself, but the design solidifies it.

“Let me put it on you,” Sidon says.

Link nods. Sidon’s fingers brush against the back of his neck, making him shiver again, working diligently to close the clasp and make sure it’s secure. He reaches up and feels the scale, warmer than the silver and hard to the touch; he slides it under his shirt for now, feeling Sidon’s gift against his skin.

“Do you like it?”

Link nods, reaching back for Sidon’s arms and pulling them back around his chest and waist. _It is amazing_ , he tells Sidon. _It is beautiful_.

“I am glad to hear that. Does your acceptance of my gift mean that I have permission to officially court you?” Sidon asks. Link can hear the nervous stutter of Sidon’s breath and the slight tremble of his stomach, nerves that he should by no means be experiencing.

“Yes,” he tells Sidon. “You can court me.”

This time, when Sidon presses his face to Link’s hair, he thinks it’s to hide his smile. Link’s chest is beating fast and he’s feeling light-headed, the rush of the past several days only just catching up to him.

-

Back in the Domain, they return to their separate quarters.

The building is mostly empty and quiet by then, and before leaving, Link pulls at Sidon’s shoulder until he leans down—just so he can kiss his cheek and see him blush again, stuttering out a quiet “Good night.”

“Sleep well,” Link tells him.

He lies in bed, still shaking at Sidon’s outright proposal—and marvelling at how he did not ruin matters after all. He wonders if perhaps it is because Sidon’s lived a much longer life; if time passes faster and three years seems inconsequential.

Yet—he thinks not. He thinks Sidon must believe in Hylia’s strings of fate, used to weave together the history of Hyrule; he thinks that Sidon must have trusted that Link would return to him one day.

Link lifts the scale and looks at it. He can’t fathom the hours Sidon has put into the gift and wonders if he should find a smithy to help him with a ring to gift Sidon. It reminds him of Dinraal’s scale, but the warmth Sidon’s brings is of an entirely different nature—lighting something deep inside of him; filling some of the emptiness that the lost memories and lost friends left him with.

-

Upon their official announcement the next day, King Dorephan’s booming laugh echoes across the water. He seems pleased and having the Zora King’s blessing seems like a good of a start as any. Zelda has arrived and Link suspects Sidon informed her about his proposal—she congratulates them with warm hugs and a bright smile.

Most importantly however, Sidon stays by his side throughout the day. They go for another walk, reminiscing about Mipha—Sidon tells him all that he can remember of his sister and Link does the same. It is odd to be around each other so much after such a long time—but most odd is the warmth and familiarity, like the intervening years never occurred.

There are things they will need to discuss, Link knows, but Sidon’s hand fits around his and Hylia blesses them with the first warm night of the season, with a sunset red like the scale around Link’s neck.

Sidon smiles at him, understanding what Link wants to say. They will have time for that, later, when they have grown into their new roles, when their courtship is not as tender anymore.

Still, as the sun sets and the three dragons converge above them, Link smiles while he pulls Sidon down for a kiss.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> my (hideously inactive) social media: [tumblr](http://saucerfulofsins.tumblr.com/) | [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/Caerleon)


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